


Kiss Kiss

by HidingintheInkwell



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: BAMF Steve, Danny is fun to try and kill, Grimm Reaper!Steve, Hysterical!Danny (but he's going through a lot so it's ok), Near Death Experiences, Other, but cooler, soul stones look like marbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 03:35:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18908716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HidingintheInkwell/pseuds/HidingintheInkwell
Summary: Danny was dying. He’d stopped shivering some time ago, the cold morphing into a numbing warmth that filled his extremities with lead and made even breathing feel like too much work. The pain in his side had faded to a dull ache, and he’d lost feeling in the hand he’d pressed to it. Rolling his head, he looked down at the crimson stained snow beneath him, hand coated in a shiny red glove to match the spill across the snow.*****Before the Divorce, before Hawaii, Danny Williams was a beat cop working rounds in the middle of a New Jersey winter when he and his then partner are caught in a shoot-out. Left to die in the snow, Danny's life is saved by a mysterious soldier in black. Years later, in a dusty crime scene, he meets one Steven J. McGarrett who bares a startling resemblance to the Soldier Danny was convinced was a shock-induced hallucination. When a case goes south, however, fate decides to throw Danny a curveball, and Danny is left trying to re-evaluate everything he knows about his Ex-SEAL partner.





	1. Kiss of Death

**Author's Note:**

> So I am a little obsessed with this one. I absolutely LOVED this idea but COULD NOT GO ANYWHERE with it at the time so it sat in my hard drive till just the right moment to become the beautiful creation you are about to read! I get giddy every time I think about it so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!  
> \---XOXO HidingintheInkwell

Danny was dying. He’d stopped shivering some time ago, the cold morphing into a numbing warmth that filled his extremities with lead and made even breathing feel like too much work. The pain in his side had faded to a dull ache, and he’d lost feeling in the hand he’d pressed to it. Rolling his head, he looked down at the crimson stained snow beneath him, hand coated in a shiny red glove to match the spill across the snow.  _ It’s like the snow cones we get every summer on the boardwalk,  _ he thought, a hysterical giggle bubbling up in his throat but breaking before it could leave his tongue, replaced instead by a harsh cough that sent more red spattering into the air in front of him, freezing on contact and falling with the fresh flakes that had been steadily falling since they’d gotten out there some number of hours ago. Rolling his head until it fell back against the wall behind him with a dull  _ thunk,  _ he squinted through the snow-fall to the still, dark form of his partner, already half buried in the fresh white powder. A sharp pang stabbed at his heart.

 

It was supposed to have been routine. Check out the areas they’d been keeping an eye on for suspected gang activity, then head back to the department, fill out the paperwork saying nothing was going on, and then go home. Hell, they weren’t even meant to leave the warmth of the squad car. Someone out there with a sick sense of humor must have hated them, though, because no sooner had they driven by than they were spotting their suspect slipping into one of the condemned buildings. They were out the car in seconds, sinking ankle deep into the accumulated snow, icy cold falling into their shoes and melting into their socks as they booked it as fast as the wintery terrain would let them. Wind cut through their uniforms and Danny tuned out as his partner swore a blue streak at the weather and their lack of preparation. Really, they only had themselves to blame, but at the same time, they hadn’t been expecting to leave the car. Nobody in their right mind drove around bundled up like the Michelin Man unless their car had a busted heater, even in December in Jersey. 

 

All grumbling had stopped when the bullets started flying, cutting through the white flurry and whizzing past their heads, forcing them to swerve and duck, falling into snow drifts as they pulled free their own guns to return fire. It lasted forever, but was over in seconds. Danny was crouched behind a dumpster, popping up just long enough to get off a shot before ducking back down again when he heard a cut off grunt, and then the sound of rubber soles losing traction, though the sound of the fall itself was muffled by the snow. Squinting through the flurry, he saw his partner laying still in the ruins of a drift, blood spreading fast against the stark contrast of white. “Phillips, you okay?” He yelled, a part of him knowing the action would only draw the gunmens’ attention toward him, but another part hoping against it all that the older cop was just injured. But that was a lot of blood and it was staining the snow way too fast. Danny felt a pang through his chest but pushed it back. Phillips had been a good cop and a good man. He and his wife were expecting their third grandchild later that month. 

 

The alley had gone silent, still. Danny wasn’t fool enough to think they’d all turned and run, but maybe they had. It was cold and wet and he could barely see; no doubt they were feeling the same. Keeping his sidearm at the ready, he slowly made his way out from behind the dumpster, eyes searching through the curtain of white for any sign of movement. He waded through ankle deep snow until he was crouching next to his fallen partner, fingers searching independently for a pulse he wasn’t expecting to find. Just as he’d suspected, his partner’s skin was ice cold and damp with snow, and there was no pulse to be found. 

 

Closing his eyes in a brief moment of silence, he straightened back up, hand reaching for his walkie before he realized he’d left it in the car in their mad dash to go after their suspect. Muttering a quiet swear, he turned to start back for the car when a single shot rang out, fire tearing through his side and sending him spinning, stumbling back until he collided with the side of a building, feet losing purchase against an icy spot and sending him down. Breath knocked out of him, all he could do was gasp as everything spun around him like a shaken snow globe, the chill of wet and heavy snow a startling contrast to the fire racing up his side. Pulling his hand away long enough to see that it was covered in a quickly freezing crimson glove, he swore again and pressed it to his side, feeling the warm liquid pulse between his fingers with each frantic beat of his heart. 

 

Standing was quickly deemed an impossible act as any attempt only resulted in more pain shooting out from his wound, worsening when his impractical shoes caught only ice and slush beneath them. He held onto the brief hope that someone from the station would track them down when they failed to report in on time, but there was no telling how long that would be. He tried to think positively, keeping the idea of going home and spending Christmas with his wife and daughter, but those thoughts faded quickly with the numbness that had begun to spread through his body.  _ At least if the blood loss doesn’t kill me, the hypothermia will,  _ he thought to himself, a hysterical giggle forcing its way up and out of his throat, leaving behind the raw, metallic taste of blood. 

 

The snow was finally beginning to slow, at least; the snowglobe finally coming to rest and let its internal wonderland regain peace. The silence was heavy, deadened, the way the air always feels after a fresh snowfall. Not even the harsh rasp of his labored breaths could cut through it, only bouncing it back on his ear until he felt like they were stuffed with cotton. Things were starting to go dark and hazy around the edges, and he could feel his body shutting down, lids growing heavy as a deep exhaustion draped itself over him. He let them droop, head lolling as he idly watched the snow through narrowed slits. He felt like he was sinking, like the wall at his back and the snow gathering on him were working together to drag him under and make him one with them. He was just about to give into the temptation to close his eyes and succumb when something dark began taking shape through the snow. Drawing a breath to help clear the haze, he fought back against the pull of oblivion and tried to focus. 

 

The dark thing was coming closer, gaining two arms and two legs and a head as it took shape until he found himself watching a man coming towards them. If Danny and Phillips had been ill prepared for the weather, this man looked like he just stepped out of a Rambo film. He was dressed completely in black; black cargo pants with a knife strapped across one thigh, black combat boots that left soundless footprints in the fresh powder, black t-shirt under his black flak vest. Black paint covered both cheeks and his black hair was military regulation, but tousled and dotted with falling snowflakes. He carried a holstered sidearm strapped to his opposite thigh and his face was a studious mask as he made his way purposely through the snow, seemingly unbothered by the cold. 

 

As the blond watched, the soldier crouched over Danny’s dead partner, head cocked to one side, one tac-gloved hand turning the man’s head first one way, then another, before leaning down and-- to Danny’s complete shock-- pressing his lips to Phillips’ slack and rather blue ones. Danny wanted to hurl, to say something, anything, but his tongue had seemed to lose all ability to move. Apparently his vocal cords had frozen over in the cold, and all he could do was watch the interaction.  _ Who is this guy?  _ He thought disconnectedly.  _ Some kind of necro who gets his rocks off on icy stiffs?  _

 

The soldier in black held the kiss for a long moment, really nothing more than a press of lips, before he was pulling back, opening Phillips’ mouth with one thumb before reaching in and pulling something small out. Through the haze that had descended over Danny’s vision, he could swear it looked like a blue marble, roughly the size of the shooter Matty had won off some grade schooler when they were kids, but this one looked like it was pulsing from the inside out with a blue light that looked almost like a beating heart.  _ What the hell was that doing in Phillips’ mouth?  _ Danny had to wonder, watching as the soldier palmed the strange orb, pushing himself effortlessly to his feet and turning to Danny, piercing green eyes cutting through the haze and boring into the blond’s very soul.

 

In two strides, the soldier was kneeling in front of him, face mere inches away as he studied Danny’s face with eyes that, even as he tried to focus on them, shifted and changed like the ocean when the wind was just right to blow clouds across the sun. Danny’s breath was beginning to stall in his throat, but he couldn’t tell if it was from his body shutting down, or the way this mysterious man was studying him, and he knew that if he’d had any feeling in his body whatsoever, he’d likely have embarrassed himself by this point. As it was, he tried to keep his attention focused on the man, even as his vision flickered, fading in and out like bad reception on a TV. The soldier just continued to study him, though, his face like a stone mask; giving away nothing. Danny had the distinct feeling he was being sized up and judged for his worth, and he wondered if this man was waiting for him to die too, so he could kiss him like he’d done Phillips. He also wondered what it would feel like, having this man’s lips pressed to his. He quickly pushed those thoughts away, reminding himself that he had a wife and daughter back home. 

 

A cold as ice thumb pushed at Danny’s chin until his muscles gave and let his mouth hang open loosely. Green eyes never leaving his, the blond watched from his peripheral as the soldier lifted the pulsating marble and slipped it onto Danny’s tongue, pressing his jaw back up until his teeth clicked together. It tasted acrid, like pure rock salt and copper, and Danny wanted nothing more than to spit it out, but cold fingers kept his jaw shut, effectively caging it behind his teeth. Saliva pooled under his tongue, spreading the bitter taste like a pill when it started to dissolve while you searched frantically for a glass of water, making his mouth burn until he had no choice but to swallow the foul liquid. His stomach roiled and he swore he was about to vomit as his body made an attempt to send it back up. 

 

A broken, desperate sound slipped from between compressed lips as he tried to pull away, to spit out whatever was leeching its toxins into his system, but his muscles were deadened with cold, rendering him as immobile as a quadriplegic. The soldier still held his face captive between large, ice cold palms, everchanging eyes watching him, holding him captive. Then he was leaning forward, stone cold lips pressing against Danny’s own chapped and likely bluish ones. Danny felt his eyes slip closed of their own accord as his head was tilted back against the wall, blunt nails drawing a shiver up his spine as one of the soldier’s hands slipped into his damp hair, the other resting against the dying blond’s throat, gentle yet dangerous. 

 

The weird marble shifted in Danny’s mouth, sliding towards the back of his throat and settling heavily, tauntingly. The hand around his throat flexed, thumb pressing firm strokes across his adams apple and forcing his muscles to pull and contract. Saliva pooled against the back of his throat until his only options were to swallow or choke on his own spit. 

 

The marble went down like a chunk of ice, burning and freezing all at the same time as he gagged on the obstruction, the soldier pulling back from the kiss but his hands remaining, locking Danny’s head and jaw into position as though to ensure Danny could not cough it back up. Danny’s eyes were watering, his throat raw and stomach rolling violently, but he did his best to glare through the blur at the soldier.  _ If this bastard is going to kill me,  _ he thought to himself,  _ then he’s damn well going to have to look at me while he does it.  _ Even as he thought it, though, a part of his brain didn’t really believe it. He couldn’t begin to understand the events that had started unfolding the moment the soldier had appeared through the snow, but none of them had spoken of a particular malevolence. If he’d meant for Danny to die, he could have just shot him with the holstered sidearm, slit his throat with the knife, or just left him there to finish bleeding out. 

 

But he hadn’t. He’d taken something from Phillips and given it to Danny. He’d  _ kissed  _ Danny.  _ Unless that was the kiss of death, _ Danny thought rather hysterically, throat too raw to force out a chuckle. His thoughts were beginning to slow again, tiredness blanketing him and drawing his lids down again. Through the slit, he watched forest green eyes study him once more before their owner was standing and walking away, a flurry of snow blowing up and obscuring him briefly in a swirl of white. When it settled not even a second later, the figure in black was gone. Danny’s eyes slid shut, the last thing his sluggish brain processing was the high pitched wail of sirens cutting through the deadened silence before even that too was gone. 

 

He woke up to white, thinking for a moment that he was still out in the snow before the harsh smell of antiseptic and the beeping of a heart monitor identified his location. Rachel was asleep in the chair next to him; she must have left Gracie with his ma. His mouth tasted of salt and copper, but his limbs were too heavy with the morphine they’d pumped him full of to reach for the glass sitting on his roll-away. Instead he let the medication pull him back under, the darkness of his eyelids giving way to a vague memory of a dark figure with piercing green eyes. 

  
  



	2. Kiss of Life

He’d never admit it, not even upon pain of death, but he was beginning to think of this pineapple infested hell-hole as home. Well, maybe not  _ home  _ home, that title still belonged to Jersey, but still a home. Grace was flourishing in ways he never would have expected, even though he really should have. She was strong and adaptable. Even more so than her father, Danny often thought as he watched her out in the waves with Kono or Steve, rising up on her board like she’d been doing it her entire life and riding the little baby waves that caught her and carried her toward shore. 

 

He was proud to admit that they’d managed to carve places for themselves out of the red clay and volcanic rock, though he’d perhaps needed a little more help. He was part of a team that was more family than any team he’d worked with back in Jersey. There was still a lot that he hated; getting called a  _ Haole _ , not understanding the need to have pineapple and spam on  _ everything _ , and the way his teammates (Steve) made fun of him every time he wore a tie, but even given their rocky start, he and the SuperSEAL had formed themselves a pretty easy friendship. He made fun of Danny’s ties, Danny made fun of his lack of common sense. It worked for them. 

 

When he’d first met the dark haired soldier, guns pulled on one another in the watery light of John McGarrett’s garage, it had triggered fuzzy memories of a day half buried in blood stained snow, but he’d pushed it aside as he always had, convincing himself that it was a hallucination brought on by trauma and hypothermia. It was something he’d been telling himself since he’d woken up in the hospital to a doctor telling him he’d been lucky not to have frozen to death. It seemed the cold had coagulated his blood and turned it into a makeshift bandage. “Looks like you had an angel looking out for you,” the doctor had joked before turning back to Danny’s chart, but the blond detective hadn’t found it nearly so funny. 

 

He’d done his best to push it out of his mind as the years passed. The stress of the divorce had helped, having to uproot his entire life and move across the country when his ex-wife had decided to take his baby girl away from him. He’d reluctantly adjusted to Hawaii after much kicking and screaming. His new team had taken it in stride, poking fun at his temperament and the insults he handed out to their homeland, instead roping him into hiking trips or inviting his daughter along to the beach or camping. Very slowly he’d started to see why people found the islands a relaxing getaway full of interesting sights and interesting people. 

 

Then there were the times that Danny cursed ever letting the giant brunet strongarm him into a partnership. They’d gotten a case; suspected shipment of cartel drugs coming in at the docks. At the same time they’d gotten a lead on a suspected arms dealer they’d been tracking making an appearance out at Diamond Head, so while Kono and Chin had gone after the lead, Danny and Steve had headed for the docks. “Piece of cake, Danno,” Steve had told him, sliding behind the wheel of the Camaro with a grin that promised trouble. Danny really should have known by now that nothing was ever that simple when Steve McGarrett was involved. 

 

It had been a trap because  _ of course  _ it was _.  _ They were Five-O. God forbid they actually had a simple open and shut case for once. Go in, nab the dealers, and make it back to Kamekona’s in time for a late lunch. Danny being held at gunpoint with his hands cuffed behind his back did in  _ no way  _ fit into that plan. Steve was standing a couple yards away, hands in the air as he glared at the man holding Danny hostage.  _ If looks could kill, this guy would be a smear of birdshit on the dock,  _ Danny thought to himself, recognizing the dangerous look that flashed in those deep green eyes. It was a look Steve only ever wore when someone was endangering a member of his team. It was a look that promised hell upon the head of the poor moron doing the endangering. 

 

“What you gonna do now,  _ haole _ ?” Danny’s captor taunted, pressing the gun harder against the side of Danny’s head, not having a clue how close he was to his own ultimate demise. “I’ll tell you what you gonna do. You gonna let me back on my boat, and you gonna let me leave, or your loudmouthed friend here is gonna go for a little swim.” 

 

Danny rolled his eyes. “Please, for the love of God learn proper English! And take a damn shower, you reek of fish,” the blond sniped, arms cramping behind his back. His plan had been to rile the idiot up enough for him to do something stupid, just enough for Steve or Chin to take him out. He could see the older of the cousins readying his shotgun up in the parking lot. They’d called as Steve and Danny were heading toward the boat to say the lead had been a bust. Danny had gone on ahead while Steve talked, effectively cementing his position as hostage when the small boat had erupted like a clown car, spilling its drug dealers out onto the dock. There had been six in total, five of which now lay dead on the deck of the boat or half hanging off the dock. They’d taken them out fast, but not fast enough. 

 

Danny’s captor growled, and the blond could see the tension increase across Steve’s shoulders. “You think you so smart,  _ haole?  _ You say I smell like fish, well let’s see how much good that smart mouth of you’s does you when  _ you’s  _ with the fish.” Before Danny’s brain could properly sort through the butchered grammar, pain was exploding across his temple, causing his vision to swim as the dock heaved under his feet. There was a sharp jab between his shoulder blades, and then he was falling, the ring of a gunshot and someone calling his name the last thing he heard before he was going under, sinking fast in a flurry of bubbles. He tried to kick his legs, to get himself back towards the surface, but the blow was making him slow to react and his bound hands were essentially useless. His ears were ringing, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the blow, or the pressure. 

 

His loafers hit the bottom, sending up a cloud of sugar-white sand to hover around him, dredging up memories of snow flurries and a soldier in black with a touch like ice. He tilted his head up, lungs burning as he watched the last few bubbles stirred up from his fall race one another to the surface, toward the watery sunlight that shifted and whirled like some kind of acid trip. The current caught and tugged at his clothes, carrying the drifting sand away into the darkness of deeper ocean. He knew he should probably be panicking; he  _ hated  _ the ocean, and this right here was straight out of one of his nightmares, but for whatever reason, he couldn’t bring himself to. It wasn’t like it would do him any good; panicking would only wear him out and use up the last of his air supply. His lungs were already screaming at him, no point in making it worse. 

 

Lack of oxygen was making his vision hazy as he stared through the sapphire tinted water, and for the briefest moment he swore he could see the soldier in black coming toward him, so reminisce of the way he had all those years ago that Danny almost laughed. One blink followed another, but the figure didn’t disappear. He strode towards Danny purposely, stepping across the ocean floor as easily as he had the Jersey snow, not even disturbing the sand beneath his heavy black boots. Emerald green eyes seemed to glow in the murky depths, and a pang of familiarity shot through the blond’s chest.  _ I always knew my partner would be the death of me, _ he thought to himself, realizing why Steve had looked so familiar that first day they’d met. 

 

The doppelganger came to a stop in front of Danny, water tossing his dark locks across his forehead as he caught ahold of Danny’s chin again.  _ I always said I was living on borrowed time, _ Danny thought to himself, meeting those shifting green eyes head on.  _ Guess he’s come back to collect.  _ This time, though, his eyes were not as steely and serious as they had been that day in the snow. In fact, he almost seemed  _ amused;  _ lips curling up at the corners in the barest of smirks, and Danny was immediately reminded of the giant goofball he called a partner when he was trying to maintain a serious face, but something was just so amusing that even that soldier facade had to crack just slightly. 

 

There was a faint blue glow casting shadows across his features, and it took Danny a moment to realize that the source was coming from behind his closed lips, cheeks glowing so faintly he almost missed it to the ethereal tinge of the water around him. As he watched, the soldier opened his mouth, showing Danny the glowing blue marble resting in the curl of his tongue. Unlike the one he’d pulled from Phillips, though, this one was pulsing quickly, shades changing with each beat; first sky blue, then cobalt, then the color of the water around them. It was mesmerizing, and Danny found himself torn between staring at the shifting colors of the marble, and the shifting colors of the soldier’s eyes. He’d forgotten about his lungs screaming for air, he’d forgotten about the pounding of blood in his ears and the weight of the water pressing in on him. There was absolutely nothing; just him and this supernatural being with the face of his partner. 

 

The doppelganger rolled the marble around his mouth for a brief moment before he was leaning in, Danny letting his eyes drift closed as cold but surprisingly soft lips were pressed to his. One gloved hand guided his head into the kiss as his slack lips were coaxed apart, a foreign tongue pressing the smooth marble into his mouth before twining with Danny’s in a dance for dominance; one Danny was all too willing to lose. Danny had been bracing himself for the overwhelming taste of salt and copper, the way the last one had coated his tongue and made him want to gag, but instead he felt like he’d just swallowed a mouthful of seawater. His throat convulsed around the orb as he swallowed willingly, wanting to be rid of the obstruction so that he could continue exploring the mouth pressed against his, but the soldier was pulling away, leaving Danny to blink owlishly at his smirking features. Cool lips brushed against the shell of his ear. “You really need to quit making me have to save you,” the soldier whispered in Steve’s voice, low and husky and teasing. “You’re depleting my supply…” 

 

Then he was pulling away, stepping back with one last caress to Danny’s cheek. The blond felt his chest seize painfully, then everything was erupting into bubbles, obscuring the soldier from view as his eyes fell shut, and for the briefest moment he was drifting again before something was pressing down hard on his chest and rough lips were pressing against his own, forcing air into his lungs before the pressure was back; like when Gracie used to fling herself down on his chest when she was smaller. He felt his body convulse, water and bile rising up in his throat to choke him, and strong hands were tugging at him, turning him over onto his side, pounding on his back. 

 

His throat burned like he’d swallowed shattered glass when he was able to roll back over, blinking up into a clear blue sky and a very drippy, very concerned looking Navy SEAL. “It’s you…” he rasped between breaths, catching the slight flicker in those emerald depths before it was quickly covered with a poor attempt at a cocky grin. “‘Course it’s me, Danno. Who else would it be, saving your ass again?” Danny tried to shake his head, to clear up his meaning, but it only made him dizzy so he decided it could wait until a later time. Instead he went to sit up, grunting as stiff and overexerted muscles refused to function properly and leaning gratefully into Steve’s strong arms as they wrapped around his shoulders, helping guide him into an upright position. 

 

Before he could do much more, Kono was throwing towels over them and an ambulance was pulling up. Despite protests that he was  _ fine, Steven _ , he found himself ushered into the back of the ambulance where he was poked and prodded and squeezed while his equally soaked partner was pulling dry clothes from the back of the Camaro. When  _ Steve’s clothes  _ had ended up in the back of  _ Danny’s car _ , the blond couldn’t begin to figure out, but he’d given up trying to protest his partner’s apparent joint custody of the car a long time ago. Tuning out the actions of the EMT, he found his gaze straying to Steve. That was twice now a figure bearing an unnatural resemblance to the SEAL had saved his life. Danny still wasn’t convinced it wasn’t some near-death hallucination, but it was becoming a lot harder to rebuff the idea. As Danny watched, Steve stripped off his dripping t-shirt, toweling off briefly before moving to pull on a dry one, muscles coiling and shifting beneath the tanned skin, and Danny felt something curl in the pit of his stomach.  _ Supernatural or not, _ Danny thought,  _ Steve has got some explaining to do.  _

 

It was several hours later when Danny found himself in Steve’s kitchen chopping vegetables while the brunet was out on the lanai prepping the grill. After the EMTs had cleared him with orders to come in immediately if he began vomiting or feeling lightheaded, and suggesting he not be left alone that night lest something unexpected happen, Steve had obviously taken it more to heart than he ever had when  _ he  _ was in a similar position, stating in no uncertain terms that Danny would be staying with him. He’d then proclaimed the four of them done for the day as Danny was still soaking wet and none of them particularly felt like going back to the Palace to fill out paperwork. With a goodbye and a round of hugs and back slaps from the cousins, a towel-bundled Danny was half shoved into the passenger seat and they were on their way to Steve’s, where lucky for him he still had a change of clothes from the last time Gracie had wanted to go swimming. 

 

Steve had been casting him unreadable looks the entire way back to the beach house, and it was almost a relief when he’d left the blond with orders to prep some veggies to be wrapped in tinfoil while he readied the grill for the “hobo pockets” (Steve said they’d been an easy thing to prep on camping trips or when he was deployed) and steaks. Danny had already chopped carrots, potatoes, and a bell pepper, and was starting on an onion when the blade slipped and, instead of slicing the tear-inducing bulb, he sliced into his thumb. Dropping the blade with a curse, he quickly ran it under the tap to assess the damage. “Not too bad,” he mumbled to himself, deciding it didn’t need anything more than a bandaid before wrapping a paper towel around it and heading for the stairs. 

 

Steve always kept a medical grade first aid kit since he despised going to the hospital for anything less than a possibly fatal bullet wound, and even that was a bit of a debate. Trying the bathroom first and finding nothing, he crouches against the floor and peers under the bed. At first all he sees is dust bunnies, a duffle, and an odd pair of socks, but as he reaches in and shoves a pair of workboots out of the way, he sees the corner of a plastic case. Grabbing hold of it, he pulled it out from under the bed and sat back on his heels, popping the clasps and lifting the lid. 

 

He knew Steve kept some unorthodox things in his first aid kit, but Danny had to admit the last thing he’d expected to find was foam padding cradling a ancient looking wooden box, ornate carvings scrolled across its lid. “What the hell?” he mumbled to himself, lifting the box and then the padding to see if it was some kind of joke, but the case was completely empty save the strange box. It was a little smaller than a cigar box and made of an almost caramel colored wood Danny recognized as Hemlock, his ma having had a jewelry box made of it when he was younger. To his knowledge it was now Bridget’s, but he remembered it because it was old and scratched up, even under the shiny finish. The one he’d found under Steve’s bed was unfinished, but worn smooth and shiny in places from wear. Dark smudges left streaks across the sides like someone had held it multiple times with dirty hands, but it didn’t have a grubby look to it. It looked well taken care of, like the smudges were just a casualty of time and wear. The carvings across the lid were a charred black, curving in and across themselves like some of the celtic runes he’d come across the year Gracie’s class was doing a big project for St. Patrick’s Day. 

Danny found himself with a thumb pressed against the burnished copper clasp, curiosity warring with the ingrained desire to respect his partner’s privacy.  _ Fuck it,  _ Danny finally conceded, the clasp popping open under his thumbnail.  _ Since when has the neanderthal ever respected  _ my  _ privacy?  _

 

The inside was lined with a blood red silk, contrasting sharply with the black velvet of a closed drawstring bag. The hair on Danny’s arms were standing on end as he carefully picked the bag up, the sound of round glass clacking and shifting against one another loud in the silence that had fallen over the bedroom. Danny tugged open the bag, mentally preparing himself to be faced with the Big Bad SEAL’s secret stash of D&D die, the quip of Steve being a closeted nerd dying on his tongue as he peered into the open bag to find it half full of small, dimply pulsating marbles in varying shades of blue. Danny felt his breath catch in his throat. This was the third time he’d seen these things, and he still had no idea what they were, but the bigger question going through his mind was  _ what was  _ Steve _ doing with them?  _ “Find what you were looking for?” 

 

The question ripped through the silence like a bullet, the bag slipping from Danny’s startled fingers and dropping back into its box as the blond spun to face the door. The tall brunet was leaning casually against the doorframe, green eyes surveying the room like it was the most normal thing in the world to walk in on your partner having a crisis after snooping in your personal effects. “Careful,” the taller man said, lips curling in a smirk. “You have no idea how hard those are to come by.” The tone sounded almost joking, as if they were talking about the sand dollars he’d given Gracie for Christmas last year rather than a bag full of something Danny was beginning to suspect had saved his life twice now. Danny just stared, mouth gaping slightly as he took in his partner, as though trying to find something he’d missed. 

 

Swim trunks and an old BUD/S shirt, arms crossed over a broad chest, but as Danny continued to stare, his vision started shifting out of focus, and Steve’s image flickered; first he was watching the casual man he worked with, who made fun of his ties and loved his daughter nearly as much as Danny did, but then he was staring at the soldier in black, who bore so much resemblance to his partner but whom Danny had known well before he’d met the SEAL. A being who’d saved his life twice now. 

 

He stared until his eyes burned, blinking once to moisten them, and when he looked back up it was the soldier in black, the one who’d haunted the corners of his memories as he tried to brush it off as a hallucination, pushing off the doorway and starting toward him, heavy black boots silent against the wood floor. He crossed the distance slowly, casually, just as he had that day in the snow, and earlier when he’d come toward Danny across the ocean floor. Danny studied him until his eyes were burning again, taking in every little factor from the wear of his cargos to the stretch of his shirt across his biceps, not a bit of it changed from that day over a decade ago. 

 

When he blinked again, it was Steve crouching in front of him, reaching over to pick up the fallen bag and passively checking its contents before pulling it shut and meeting Danny’s wide eyes. He cocked one brow in invitation, but said nothing, giving Danny the opportunity to wrangle together his thoughts and ask the questions that were weighing on his tongue. “Who are you?” the blond asked, “what are those?” To his surprise, Steve huffed out a chuckle, green eyes rolling in fond amusement. “Come on, Danno! What kind of question is that”

 

Danny felt anger and fear bubbling in the pit of his stomach. How could his partner be so casual about this?! Nothing about this was funny! “You were there,” he stated, brows furrowing as he glared at the brunet. “I don’t know how, but you were there in Jersey when Phillips was killed. I saw you kiss him, and then you pulled one of those--those  _ marble things  _ out of his mouth!” he gestured wildly at the dangling velvet bag, fingers knocking against it and sending it swinging, marbles inside clicking together softly. His hand fell heavily to his lap, words dying as he realized what had come next. “And then you put it in mine…”

 

His eyes were wide as saucers as they flickered from the gently swaying bag, up to its holder’s face before falling back to it, like if he tried hard enough all the answers would suddenly appear on the black fabric. “Steven, what are those?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. When he was met with silence, he forced his eyes up to his partner’s tanned face. “ _ Answer me, _ ” he growled, fed up with the games the taller man was playing with him. Steve caught and held his stare, green eyes swirling with colors as they reflected back the dying sunlight filtering through the curtains. From his peripheral, Danny saw him slip two fingers into the mouth of the bag, emerging with one of the marbles trapped between his index and middle finger. He held it up between their faces, so close Danny felt like he was going to go cross-eyed looking at it. 

 

“These, Detective Williams, are  _ Souls.  _ Tricky to come by because you have to have perfect timing to harvest them or else they dull and are effectively worthless. Take one, the person dies. Give one to another, though…” he dropped it into his palm and let it rest in the center of the tanned, calloused skin. Danny found his gaze locked on it, mesmerized by the steady pulsing. Like it contained its own heartbeat behind the glassy exterior.  _ In a way I guess it does…  _ He tracked it as Steve rolled it back between his fingers, raising it like a cigarette to his lips, the pulsating light growing brighter as it neared dark pink lips. As Steve touched it to his mouth, the light flared bright like a beacon. “Give it to another, and they live…” it was said softly, low like a whisper, tone almost husky. 

 

Danny tore his eyes away from the glowing orb to meet Steve’s, blue light reflecting off the green and making them glow. “Who are you…?” he breathed, heart racing so fast it was making him dizzy. Steve lowered the marble--the  _ soul-- _ and Danny watched as it immediately dimmed. “I think you know the answer to that,  _ detective, _ ” the brunet said, voice tinged with amusement. “So why don’t you tell me?” 

 

Danny swallowed hard, throat suddenly parched. “You’re the Grim Reaper,” he whispered, puzzle pieces finally clicking into place. He couldn’t breathe, as though all the air in the room had fled in terror of the…  _ something _ … crouching barely two feet from him. The thing wearing Steve’s face chuckled, still rolling the soul between his fingers. “Such an archaic term, I don’t actually remember the last time I used it. Nowadays I just prefer Steve.” It was said so casually, so offhandedly that Danny’s brain froze up, glitched, then start ticking over again. “Steve…” he tried, feeling something bubble up in his throat. “The Grim Reaper is my work partner, and his name is  _ Steve…” _

 

He giggled. He knew he was toeing the line between calm and hysterical, but he also knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. His brain was stuck trying to rationalize how the dark soldier who’d haunted his dreams for  _ years, _ tied somewhere between the fear that he’d come back to finish the job, and the desire for the dangerous being to press him down and take him, let Danny see if the rest of his body was as cold as his lips had been; and the giant, socially inept doofus that he worked with, who’d taken Gracie out into the waves, opened his couch to Danny and even offered to convert Mary’s old bedroom so that Danny’s daughter had a place to stay when it was Danny’s weekend with her. 

 

He fell back against the side of the bed, uncontrollable giggles still forcing their way out of his throat. He tried to make himself breathe, to will the room bigger because it had begun rapidly closing in on him the moment he’d realized the truth behind Steve’s identity. His vision was starting to swim when he felt a cool hand against is face, cupping at his cheek while a calloused thumb drew slow circles over his rapidly fluttering pulsepoint. Just like that his breathing was slowing, the bedroom walls retreating and the bubbling hysterics calming back down. Steve’s face came back into focus; the Real Steve. Not the dark soldier who’d saved him from dying, but the psychopathic goof who’d saved him from  _ himself.  _ He blinked once, twice, three times, relieved when the brunet’s appearance didn’t waver. 

 

Grass green eyes were studying Danny’s no doubt flushed face, one brow raised in a silent question that Danny answered with a nod. Steve’s face broke out in a smile that made Danny feel warm all over, even despite the cool of the hand still holding his face. “Do you know why I saved you that day back in Jersey?” he asked, voice softer than Danny had ever heard it. The blond shook his head. To be honest, he’d never really thought about it. Back then he’d managed to convince himself that it was a hallucination, and it really wasn’t until the John McGarrett murder had introduced the two of them that he’d even thought of the soldier again. 

 

Steve dropped his gaze from Danny’s face to the soul he was clutching in one hand, light shining from between his fingers, before bringing them back up to meet Danny’s eyes. “I can see people’s souls, and I determine whether it is their time to go. That day, I looked into the soul of a smartass Jersey Cop with a little girl waiting for him at home, and I fell in love…” the words trailed off, their weight laying heavy across the silence left behind. Steve’s eyes were deeper and darker than the ocean they’d both been under just a few hours before, and just like then, Danny found himself drowning in the depths. “I think I love you too,” he breathed, watching the way the brunet’s expression shifted and changed, lighting up like the sun coming from behind a cloud you hadn’t even realized was there. 

 

The taller man leaned in, but Danny quickly raised a hand to stop him; cool lips against his fingers sending a shiver down his spine. “Wait,” be breathed, heart pounding in his ears. “You’re not going to… you know, steal  _ my  _ soul if we kiss, are you?” Steve blinked in surprise before snorting, forehead bumping against Danny’s before meeting his eyes again. “I promise, Danno,” he said, holding the sky blue soul up between their faces. “Your soul is safe with me.” 

 

Before Danny could comment on how nonreassuring that statement was, Steve was slipping the orb between the blond’s parted lips and chasing it with his own. Danny’s eyes fluttered closed, blue light pulsing behind his lids and the taste of fresh seawater and copper flooding his mouth. Something bloomed white hot inside his chest as cool arms wrapped around him, and he knew Steve had been speaking the truth when he’d said that Danny’s soul was safe, and he wondered if the brunet knew just how long he’d been in possession of it. 

 

~END~

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! Kudos and Comments keep my dorky Grimm Reaper in his soul supply!! I'm thinking of a little mini-sequel that's mostly just Danny badgering Steve with questions, and maybe a little loving to bump up the rating ;) so let me know what ya'll think!!


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